


Unspoken Truth

by MelyndaR



Series: Carvis Week trilogy [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Carvis Week, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6759496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*My submission for the third day of Carvis Week!* Peggy takes a short trip back to London, and brings Mr. Jarvis along so that he can have some time apart from Howard. But of course her parents have to realize that something is going on between the duo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts used in this chapter: science, London, travelling, and touches.

Peggy thought that she had timed her appearance at Howard’s well. It was early enough in the morning after the fundraising auction that she thought Mr. Jarvis would let her in so that she could properly interrupt Howard’s breakfast – but find both men in the same place – and inform them that she was going to be out of town for a few days. And could she please borrow one of Howard’s planes and his butler to get her there? No one seemed to be answering the door, though, so she let herself in… only for her ears to be assaulted by the sounds of shouting coming from the lab.

Without a second thought, she rushed in the proper direction, fully expecting to see flames and smoke, the aftermath of some explosion, with Mr. Jarvis and Howard sitting in the middle of it tending to their own wounds. Instead, when she reached the lab doorway, all she saw was the two men standing in the middle of the room, perfectly alright, but engaged in an out-and-out yelling match.

_Oh dear._ Come to think of it, she didn’t know that she had ever seen Mr. Jarvis shout at Howard – and he certainly seemed to be the one who was most angry at the moment.

“All I asked for was my dumb notes on the iron alloy project; can I help it if it reminded me of you and her? Why are you—!”

“And I asked _you_ to leave it alone, and you said you would, so _why_ do you keep bringing it up? The _answer_ is no!”

“Why not?! It makes perfectly good sense to everyone in the world but you two idiots!”

“We are not ‘idiots,’ and it is not—”

Absolutely flummoxed, Peggy shouted over the both of them, “ _Gentlemen_!”

Two heads snapped around, two sets of eyes grew very wide, and they said at the same time, “Peg!” and “Miss Carter!”

“We didn’t see you there,” Howard added casually before shooting one final glare at his butler.

Mr. Jarvis rolled his eyes scathingly as Peggy added lightly, “Nor did you hear your own doorbell, apparently.”

“My apologies,” Mr. Jarvis said.

She dismissed said apology as unnecessary with a slight wave of her hand. “It’s no small wonder, the way you two were shouting. Who’s dying that such a battle was warranted?”

“No one is dying,” Howard replied with his own roll of the eyes. “Though someone,” he glanced at Mr. Jarvis again. “Just might get himself fired, at this rate.”

The butler turned disbelievingly towards Howard, snorting derogatively but muttering only, “Not if he _quits_ first – _at this rate_.”

Peggy’s eyes blew wide. Once she had met him, the idea of Mr. Jarvis not being here to help manage Howard, not being here _at all_ … it was a terrible, frankly _inconceivable,_ thought. “You two need some time apart,” she declared firmly, the idea coming to her even as she said it.

_She wasn’t going to do herself any favors here, was she?_ she thought, stifling a groan.

“What a brilliant idea,” Mr. Jarvis declared archly.

“And I have the perfect way to do it,” she said cheerfully, moving to stand between the two men as she added, “If I can borrow one of Howard’s plane for… oh, three days? And his butler to fly said plane?”

“Sure thing,” Howard shrugged.

“Where would we be going?” Mr. Jarvis inquired.

“I have plans to go home, to Hampstead, England. Would you mind coming with me? It looks like it might do you some good to get you away from the science and the millionaire.”

“Yeah!” Howard added his two cents. “You and Peg should go off somewhere together, Jarvis.”

Peggy hadn’t realized she’d put her hand on Mr. Jarvis’s arm until she felt him stiffen beneath it as he glared again at Howard over her shoulder. _Surely, **that** wasn’t what they’d been arguing about… or was it?_ The butler didn’t say anything, just looked down to her with the question in his eyes: _Why did he want her to come along?_

“Not for any reason,” she calmly answered the unspoken question. “I just need a pilot, and you happen to be my favorite one. Also, like I said, it appears that you two could use some breathing room to sort out whatever’s been going on between the two of you.”

“Yeah,” Howard said softly, his eyes still glittering with mischievous approval at the whole plan. “Go get that sorted out.”

Peggy looked at Howard over her shoulder, reminding tersely, “While we’re with my _parents_.” She turned back to Mr. Jarvis, giving Howard her back and no more of her attention as she asked, “Would you mind terribly if you were to accompany me?”

Her original plan had simply been for Mr. Jarvis  to fly her there and then return to New York, as she could easily have found a way back to New York from London, but perhaps this really _was_ the better idea… for whatever reason.

Mr. Jarvis looked at her for a long moment, blinked once, sighed to release some of the tension in his muscles, and then said, “No, of course I wouldn’t mind. I’d be honored.”

Peggy smiled, and despite the fact that her original plan had been to get _away_ from Mr. Jarvis, she found herself genuinely pleased that he had agreed to come along despite how counter-productive that was likely to be. “Wonderful.”

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, the duo was in a cab in London, being driven out of the city proper and into the countryside towards Hampstead.

Looking out the window as the world passed by, Peggy asked her companion curiously, “When was the last time you were in London, Mr. Jarvis?”

He hummed, answering, “19…40, I believe.”

“Me too,” she chuckled.

“It looks a bit better than it did the last time I was here.”

The remark was a bit dry, and she understood that it was a reference to the war, to bombs and destruction, though the truth was that the two of them had left London when the very worst of it was just beginning for their hometown. “Indeed,” she agreed. She looked over in time to see his eyes drift closed as he leaned his head back against the – well, he was tall enough his head practically hit the window instead of what passed for the headrest. Flying had tired him out, then, and she suspected that his spat with Howard yesterday _had_ truly distressed him. “You have another fifteen minutes before we’re home, if you’d like to rest, Mr. Jarvis. I’d be happy to wake you when we get there.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that, actually.”

Silence descended upon the car then, and after a moment, Peggy noticed that poor Mr. Jarvis seemed to be tilting sideways in his seat as he dozed. _Oh, what was the harm,_ she thought, scooting over just enough so that she could carefully reposition his head until it was resting heavily on her shoulder. She might still be too short to make such a position _comfortable_ for him, but at least he wouldn’t be moving about as much.

The cabby looked back at them through his rearview mirror and smiled, as if he thought they made some sort of adorable picture, and Peggy had to bite back the silly urge to tell him what she and Mr. Jarvis were _not_. _What did it matter what one cabby thought, anyway?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt used in this chapter: touches

“Mr. Jarvis.” Someone was shaking his shoulder, and Edwin jarred forward a little as the car they were in rolled to a sudden stop. The hand on his shoulder stilled when his eyes popped open, and he woke up enough to register that the owner of the voice was Miss Carter as she said, “Mr. Jarvis, we’re here.”

_Here… Hampstead. Right._

He nodded, rapidly blinking the last of his bleariness out of his eyes as he exited the cab through one door while Miss Carter used the other. The cabby was already unloading their bags from the boot, and Edwin took possession of them both out of sheer force of habit as an elderly couple hurried down the steps of a nearly-large white house and all but engulfed Miss Carter in welcoming arms.

_With a welcome like that, how was it that Miss Carter did not hug? Or did the excited welcome have more to do with however long it had been since she had last seen her parents? He hadn’t thought to ask her that question; maybe he should have._

The cabby, having already apparently been paid by Miss Carter, drove away, and Edwin was left standing by himself with the bags until Miss Carter was able to disentangle herself from her parents and introduce him to them.

“This is Mr. Jarvis, the man I’ve told you about. Mr. Jarvis, these are my parents, Harrison and Amanda Carter

 _Had she told them about him? When? And for what purpose? In what_ context _?_

Such questions bounced around in his mind, but he put them aside for later as Mr. Carter stepped up to him, taking Miss Carter’s suitcase with one hand, and shaking Edwin’s hand firmly with the other. “It’s nice to meet you, son.”

Edwin very carefully did not let his gaze flicker towards Miss Carter, hoping he was reading too much into that title as he shook the other man’s hand with a smile. “And you.”

“Come in now; let’s get you two settled,” Mrs. Carter requested, waving the others into the house, and something in her very tone made Edwin wonder if she was a woman who was used to getting her way.

_That could explain where Miss Carter gets it…_

The thought made his smile widen a little more as he walked between Miss Carter and her father into the house. He was surprised at what he found the interior of the house to be; there were signs of past wealth here, most likely stripped away during the Great Depression as was the case with so many others.

 _Just what sort of upbringing had Miss Carter had?_ It wasn’t something that they had ever discussed, but he was beginning to get the feeling that he might learn something of it anyway by default. _This was going to be interesting, wasn’t it?_

He tuned back into what Mrs. Carter was saying just in time to hear, “—r father and I don’t really use the upper floor much anymore – the stairs are bad for his hip, you know – but your room is all ready for you again, as is the guest room beside it, for you, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Miss Carter said, and Edwin nodded his agreement with the sentiment.

Mr. Carter told him, “The stairs are this way, if you’d like to set these bags down, Mr. Jarvis.”

So he followed the older man one way as the women went another, Mrs. Carter deciding that tea was the necessary next step. Edwin set his bag down on the bed of the room that Mr. Carter directed him to, and then paused as he came back out into the hallway, looking at a black and white photo of a man beside an airplane. Mr. Carter emerged from what was, presumably, his daughter’s room, and joined Edwin in looking at the photo.

“This is you?” Edwin asked curiously.

“It is,” Mr. Carter nodded proudly. “It seems like we’ve all served our time as a serviceman, and I did my stint, if you will, as an RAF man.”

Edwin arched an eyebrow, looking fully at the man before him as he asked, “Really?”

“Yes,” Mr. Carter turned just as fully towards him, and Edwin caught the curiosity, the questions, stirring just behind the surface of his eyes as he shook his head, commenting wryly, “My parents were _so_ angry with my brother and I. We joined up together, two privileged boys who could’ve lived as literal lords but chose not to. My brother died not long after in the line of duty, broke my mum’s heart so that she went not long after him. My father never forgave me for that; the only reason I even got any inheritance is because my sister – crazy rebel spinster that she was – split it with me when Dad died.” He waved his hand, remarking a little gruffly, “But you don’t want my family history in your first five minutes here, do you?”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Edwin replied, just a bit too lightly, given the story that he’d just been told.

Mr. Carter seemed to study him a little more openly for a second before he leaned his shoulder against the wall and commented evenly, “My daughter calls you her partner, you know.”

“Does she?” Edwin asked, feeling thoroughly pleased even though he had an idea that this conversation might already be going somewhere he wasn’t sure he’d like.

“She does. She also told us that your wife died.” The words were spoken kindly, but the undercurrent of protectiveness was unmistakably _there._

Edwin nodded, affirming, “She did.” His right hand moved to toy with his wedding ring instinctively, thanks to the topic and his nerves, but it wasn’t there.

“Amanda and I were sorry to hear that; Peggy spoke highly of her.”

Edwin arched an eyebrow, asking curiously, “She did?” _He’d never known that… and Peggy and Ana hadn’t known one another very long, besides._

He nodded. “She told us a bit about how you and your wife met… and I think Peggy’s made more observations about you than you think she has.”

“Oh?” _Now, what was_ that _supposed to mean?_

“She seems to think that you and I come from a fairly similar background, actually.”

 _Ah._ He’d wondered if she’d been able to guess that, actually. “Yes, we did, I suppose.” _Except he’d never gotten his inheritance, even if he was the oldest in his family._

“What I’m trying to get at, Mr. Jarvis, is that I’ve never met you before now, but I know enough to respect you.”

Edwin shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say to that. “Thank you?”

Mr. Carter nodded, continuing, “But I’m a father first… and one thing that Peggy has never made clear is what exactly she means when she says that you and she are ‘partners’. So tell me, Mr. Jarvis, what does that mean to you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt used in this chapter: touches

There was no threat or warning in the man’s eyes; whatever he was asking, he would most likely be fine with any answer Edwin chose to give. Yet Edwin still took a moment to sort through how exactly he ought to reply. “I’m sure that when she told you that, she meant that I was the one who… drives her about in her work with the SSR. I’d like to think that I’m her ‘partner’ that way – her helper, a right-hand man.”

This was a laid-back man trying to sort out what was happening in the life of his daughter, but if Mr. Carter had some of the training that Edwin suspected he might, he’d also know how to bury a body without it being detected if such a thing proved necessary. He wasn’t being threatening… because he didn’t have to be. He had the bearing of a very steady man who could command respect when he wanted to – and right now he wanted to, and it was working.

“What are you now?” he asked lightly.

It was an honest question, and something in Edwin pushed a terribly honest answer out of his mouth. “I’m not sure I know.”

And for some reason, just as simply as that, Mr. Carter smiled at him – probably sensing that he’d just gotten to the heart of the matter. “Does Peggy know, do you think?”

“No,” Edwin answered automatically, with a slight scoff, not allowing himself to think about what he was saying before he said it. “I think she’s more confused than I am.”

“That surprises me not at all; my daughter’s got a heart so untamable that sometimes even she doesn’t know what to make of it. Would you like her to figure it out, though?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Mr. Carter’s smile widened as he suggested, “Give Peggy an hour with Amanda and her tea, and they’ll have this all straightened out inside of Peggy’s head; I’ll bet anything on it. My wife was a strict mother, but she’s also one of the shrewdest women I know.”

“ _She’s_ shrewd?” Edwin asked lightly, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Is that supposed to imply that you’re not?”

Mr. Carter smiled broadly, clapping Edwin on the shoulder as he said, “How would you feel about making a break for the outdoors? I’ve got an early Ford in the barn that I’m working on restoring, if that’s something you’d be interested in seeing?”

“Certainly,” Edwin replied gamely.

They headed down the stairs, treading softly – and yet Mrs. Carter still called out, “Harrison? Mr. Jarvis?” the moment they reached the landing.

Mr. Carter snapped his fingers, making a face at being caught, and Edwin had to bite back a laugh as he decided that he genuinely liked this man.

Mr. Carter called out, “Yes, dear?”

“Where are you going?”

“Out to the barn; I want to show Mr. Jarvis my car.”

“Oh, Dad,” Miss Carter and her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway to look at the two men. “You’re still hanging onto that old thing?”

“And I will until the day I get it to run.”

The conversation had the homey ring of an old, friendly discussion, and Edwin wasn’t sure if he should feel awkward about witnessing it, or even more at home because they were just tossing him into the midst of everything as if he’d always been here. Miss Carter chuckled, her mother shook her head fondly, and from further in the kitchen, a teakettle whistled.

Mr. Carter gestured Edwin towards the door, saying, “Come on, then; let’s leave them to their women’s chatter.”

* * *

” _Seven years_ is too long in between visits home, Margaret Carter,” Amanda Carter said firmly, sitting down across from her daughter and handing her a teacup.

“I know, Mum,” Peggy replied apologetically, having expected exactly that statement. “And I’m sorry. But I’m here now!”

“M-hm,” her mother took a sip of her tea, watching her daughter over the rim of her cup before she set the china down and asked simply, “Why?”

“’Why’ what?”

“Why are you _here_ , Peggy?” Mrs. Carter asked, her tone caught between gentleness and exasperation. “I’m sorry, but I’m your mother, and no matter how long you stay away, I’ll still know when you’ve got something on your mind. Talk to your mother; it’s what I’m here for.”

Peggy chuckled dryly as she looked down at her tea, not at all surprised by being so bluntly, swiftly called out. “I think I may have mucked up my relationship with my best friend.”

“Your housemate?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head. “Not Angie.”

“Mr. Jarvis, then,” her mother concluded softly.

Peggy nodded, and before she could catch herself, she blurted out despairingly, “I love him, Mum!”

Mrs. Carter didn’t even blink as she replied, “Yes, that’s been obvious for a long time. And?”

“And I told him so, and I’m afraid it’s ruined everything, and – wait. What do you mean it’s ‘been obvious for a long time?’”

“Exactly that. Peggy Carter, there are _many_ different types of love, and it’s perfectly obvious that you’ve loved that young man for, I would say, round about two years. If you’re starting to figure out that you love him as more than a friend, then…” she shrugged delicately, searching her child’s face. “Where’s the problem with that? You already know that you two complement one another wonderfully.”

Peggy scowled down at her tea before looking back to her mother and declaring, “You’re not really helping, just so you know.”

“No… I _am_ helping,” Mrs. Carter objected with a caring smile. “I’m just not telling you what you want to hear. I’m not giving you the easy answer, nor am I pointing you towards the easiest path… but sometimes the difficult things are the most worthwhile.”

“I know that, Mum.”

“Then why aren’t you acting on it?” she asked gently.

Peggy sighed. “Because I don’t want to hurt him?” She shrugged, gave the more honest answer, “Because I’m afraid to lose what we already have.”

Mrs. Carter cocked her head to the side, staying thoughtfully silent for a moment as she considered her words, then said, “It seems to me, by what you’ve said, that you’ve already passed some point of no return. Now maybe the question is really just… where do you go from there? Scrabbling to get back to the old normal – one that probably won’t feel like enough now, but I’d say already feels awkward – or do you go forward, together, into wherever this leads? You know what the relationship is, what the parameters are, if you go backwards, but that’s… it’s staying in one place, and I’ve _never_ known Margaret Carter to be satisfied with that idea. Peggy Carter wants to go _forward_ , she wants to _make progress._ So… why not do that? Why not go forward, _together,_ with Mr. Jarvis, towards… _wherever_ this leads? Because it sounds to me like there’s already not _really_ going to be any going back. You love him, there’s no one else in your life who you could ever see taking his place, and it’s as simple and as complicated as that.” Mrs. Carter reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand, asking gently, “Am I right?”

Peggy stayed silent for a long moment, squeezing her mother’s hand in return while she studied the tea in her cup. “Mum?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, sometimes, I don’t like you. You’re too blunt.”

Mrs. Carter chuckled, not allowing herself to be offended. “That means I’m doing my job, I think. And I mean, really, do you think you got your mouth from your father?”

Peggy smiled despite herself, “Oh, no, I’ve never thought that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt used in this chapter: touches and London

Later that night, after everyone started heading to bed for the evening, Peggy found that she was curious enough, eager enough to get an answer to a question that she slipped into Mr. Jarvis’s bedroom and waited for him, sitting on the end of the guest bed. He startled when he came in from the water closet to find her there in the orange light of a kerosene lamp. Like her, he was already in his pajamas with a robe on over the ensemble, and maybe it was overly strange for them – or at least for what was ‘normal’ between them – but she had to ask.

“So, tell me, what did you think of my parents?”

“I think they’re very nice people. You’re father’s never going to get that Ford of his running, though.”

She chuckled as his expression smoothed into something with less surprise in it. “Oh, I know – and I think he does too. It’s just his excuse to go out there when he wants to think in peace.”

“This place is surprisingly quiet for being so close to the city,” he remarked, setting his own lamp down on the nightstand before he settled on the edge of the bed.

Peggy turned, curling further onto the bed so that she could once again face him as she mused, “It is. I always loved it as a child, but I think I _have_ been away too long. I’ve turned into a city girl.”

“The city suits you, I think – maybe Las Angeles more than New York City, actually.”

“Did you just say another thing in favor of LA, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked with a teasingly raised eyebrow.

He curled up his nose. “I brought my taco recipes back to New York City, so I need nothing else from that heat-drenched cesspool, thank you.”

She laughed, and his smile widened of its own accord. Then she asked a little hesitantly, “My father… did he…”

Peggy wasn’t sure how to word it, and it was Mr. Jarvis who supplied, “Give me a shovel talk?” She nodded, and he shook his head. “No. Not… really. He just wanted to make sure where you and I stood, I think.”

There was a beat of silence, and they both knew exactly what the next question was supposed to be, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say it… until she did, hesitantly. “Where _do_ we stand, Mr. Jarvis?”

He paused, then opened his mouth, then closed it again. _He didn’t have an answer for that question any more than she did, did he?_ Eventually he surprised her when he asked as if he knew it would mean something, “What did you and your mother talk about over tea?”

She looked down at her hands in silence, only to note that she’d tangled them together in her lap. _How was she supposed to answer_ that _question? She couldn’t; she wasn’t ready to, not yet. She knew now what she wanted to say, thanks to her mother’s ever-present blunt wisdom, but she didn’t know how to word it._

Looking back up at him, she offered a small smile, saying softly, “It’s late, Mr. Jarvis; we should really get some sleep. I believe my parents want to take us into the city tomorrow.”

He nodded, looking disappointed but like he understood all the same. “Of course. That sounds like fun.”

She did her feeble best to widen her smile as she stood from the bed, offering, “Good night, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Good night, Miss Carter.” She walked all the way to the doorway before he requested suddenly, “Peggy, wait.”

She froze, her back to him, one hand on the doorjamb, and slowly turned to look at him over her shoulder. He stood from the bed, and her heartbeat quickened as he stepped up to her. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, murmuring near her ear, “Good night.”

It was perfectly innocent, but it felt _far_ too… laced with things left unsaid. It felt too intimate with the lights dim and the floor to themselves. She desperately wanted to stay – some part of her wanted to stay right there in that bed with him for the remainder of their visit – and yet she couldn’t leave fast enough.

“Good night, Mr. Jarvis.”

His hand on the doorknob was the one thing that kept the door from slamming behind her as she practically fled to the room next door.

* * *

Neither of them slept very well that night – “ _too much thinking about it, not nearly enough talking about it,” Peggy could practically hear her mother saying_ – but they very purposefully, stubbornly kept it from showing in their interactions the next day. In fact, given the way her parents kept glancing at her and Mr. Jarvis as they travelled around London proper, Peggy had to wonder if maybe they weren’t _over_ correcting.

But, really, it wasn’t as if it was _unusual_ for him to keep his hand resting lightly between her shoulder blades as they walked; men did that all the time, didn’t they? And so what if her hand was tucked into the crook of his elbow half the day? Recently, that had become something like their normal as well. And, very well, no, it wasn’t “normal” for him to lend her his suit jacket when she got chilly in an outdoor café, but it was _Mr. Jarvis_ ; his chivalry didn’t even catch her off guard anymore.

_In fact, she was learning to find it increasingly endearing..._

She just wished that her parents would stop looking at the two of them like they were and _say_ whatever was going through their minds.

* * *

“You really don’t see it?” Mrs. Carter asked suddenly – just as soon as she’d shut the kitchen door behind herself and Peggy.

She’d shooed the men out of “her kitchen” – amidst Mr. Jarvis’s slight protests, for that matter – and Peggy had instantly known that something was on her mother’s mind. Despite her best efforts, Amanda Carter had long ago learned that her daughter was never going to master the art of cooking, and only requested her presence in the kitchen when she wanted to _talk_ about something.

_And there it was – whatever that was supposed to mean?_

“I beg your pardon?”

“Peggy, dear… the way you two act around one another, you may as well already _be_ together,” Mrs. Carter informed her, filling a pot of water to boil as she pointed Peggy in the direction of potatoes that needed peeling.

“I _beg your pardon_?!”

“You said that already,” Mrs. Carter pointed out in amusement.

Peggy didn’t find it funny. “Mum!”

Her mother set the pot on the stove and turned to her with a longsuffering look in her eyes. “ _Peggy_ , I’m going to say this once – please listen closely: _he loves you too_. I mean, really, dear, just _look_ at the way you two acted around one another today, all the glances and touches. Is that ‘normal’ for the two of you?”

“Close enough to it, yes,” Peggy replied with a small shrug, studying the potato in her hands with more interest then was necessary as she added, “And… for the record, I know that… ‘he loves me too.’ He’s told me so.”

Mrs. Carter looked caught off guard, though Peggy didn’t notice because she wasn’t meeting her mother’s gaze. “You didn’t tell me that yesterday.”

Peggy shrugged again, but otherwise stayed silent. Really, she didn’t know what to say. The longer she looked at the whole issue, she wasn’t even sure why she and Mr. Jarvis hadn’t just… made it official yet – and that was a strange, frightening thought.

“Peggy… my sweet girl, you need to just _talk_ to him, otherwise you’re going to do both of you far more harm than good.”

“I know, Mum,” Peggy sighed.

“Then _do it_. Quit holding back, quit being… _timid_. Be the fierce little Peggy that I always tried to drill out of you, and _talk to him_.”

She smiled softly, yet still timidly, up at her mother, promising then, “I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt used in this chapter: touches

Yet she didn’t, not, at least, until they were once again stateside. Back in a car alone again – it was so much easier to talk while he was driving a car rather than flying a plane – the air filled quickly with the words that had as of yet been left unspoken.

She broke the silence by saying, “Did you enjoy the trip, Mr. Jarvis?”

“I did.”

Another beat passed before she finally gave into what really needed to be said. “I suppose we need to have another talk, don’t we?”

“That would presumably be helpful.” He seemed relieved that she was willing to bring it up, even though his eyes stayed responsibly glued to the road for the time being. “You… never did tell me what you and your mother talked about over tea.”

“What if it’s not helpful? What if it ruins everything?” she asked, realizing too late that she’d said the words aloud instead of just thinking them.

He glanced at her then, and the next thing she knew, he was pulling up in front of a grocery store. Parking, he turned to her and asked evenly, “What if it makes everything better than ever?” He smiled thoughtfully and brightly all at once. “Miss Carter… Peggy, I understand what you’re saying, I understand your concerns,” he laughed under his breath. “But you have to understand that my one and only other encounter with a real relationship went from meeting to married in five weeks. We’ve gone two weeks now, just dancing around what happened at the movie premiere, and whatever we’re trying to do now… it doesn’t feel like it’s working. I’m no stranger to the idea of a leap of faith, so… why not take one?”

Peggy looked at him for a very long moment in silence, not quite sure what to think or say. _He was such a wonderful man, making it so simple… but surely it wouldn’t_ actually _be that easy…_ “Just… ‘take one,’ just like that?”

“Yes,” he nodded easily, not even considering wavering. “Just like that.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, saying almost introspectively, “People keep asking _me_ if I’m alright, if I’m still grieving, Mr. Stark thinks that the… holdup here is because I’m not ready to move on, but… you seem to be more frightened of this than I am.”

She laughed self-depreciatingly, saying softly, “This is dealing with emotions.”

It was a strange, terribly vague reply, but coming from her he understood it immediately. “Yes, it is.” And he stayed quiet, let her think, gave her a chance to say whatever her absolute truth was here, the thing that she hadn’t yet been able to say to him.

Until she did, all but blurting out, “But if this goes wrong, I _cannot_ lose you!”

He looked at her like that was one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever heard. “You won’t! What part of ‘I love you too’ did you misunderstand?”

“None of it,” she said on a dry, almost teary chuckle.

Gently, he asked, “Then don’t you trust me to keep my word? You won’t lose me; I will love you – I _do_ love you.”

She rested her head against the back of her seat, eyes closing as she groaned, “I know!”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, still soft but obviously increasingly confused.

“’Everyone around you dies.’ I can’t… _you_ can’t—”

“I _won’t_.” There was ferocity in his voice that she didn’t expect, and her eyes flew open when he reached out and took her hand in his. He smiled dryly, pointing out, “If I was at some point going to have died during our time together, I’m fairly certain it would have happened by now. I choose to believe that the fact that I yet live _means_ something… like maybe there’s still something here that’s worth living _for_ … something… someone… like _you_?”

It was such a _Mr. Jarvis_ thing to say that Peggy chuckled before she could catch herself.

And he caught the disbelief in her tone. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, remarking, “You still underestimate your allure _far_ too much, Peggy.”

She narrowed her eyes right back at him, pointing out with a smile, “I never gave you permission to use my first name. Does that mean that I’m to call you ‘Edwin’ now?”

“Of course you can… especially if this conversation is going to ultimately go in the direction that I hope it is.”

She chuckled dryly again, asking, “And that’s just… supposed to… be it? Said and done and now we’re something else – something _more_ – entirely?”

“We’ve been something else and something more for longer than I think either of us is willing to admit… now we’re just putting a label on it, that’s all.”

“’That’s all’?”

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath, let it out on another disbelieving laugh. “Okay.”

“’Okay’?”

“Yes, ‘okay.’ Very well.” She took a second breath and squeezed his hand, meeting his eyes. “I trust you, I love you, I’m scared, but I want this.”

His smile widened helplessly, and he looked at her with an adoration that nearly took her breath away – _and yet, it was the same way he always looked at her, wasn’t it?_ “That’s all I ever needed to hear.” He hesitated before asking shyly, “May I kiss you?”

 _He was so unbelievably_ sweet _!_ Part of her wanted to just close the space between them and kiss him, wild and reckless and passionate like she’d done the night of the movie premiere, but… well, she’d done that, so this… this seemed like it needed to be his somehow, an evening of the scales that she hadn’t even known she’d wanted. So she nodded instead, let him do with that what he liked.

He moved slowly, like he was afraid she would spook, like he wanted to memorize the moment as it happened, and she found herself blushing fiercely under his gaze. _She was no goddess; why did he look so very_ worshipful _?_ He tucked her hair behind her ear with his free hand, his fingertips trailing over her jaw line as he leaned in, tilting her face to his. It wasn’t wild or reckless; in fact it might’ve begun as the gentlest kiss she’d ever experienced.

She’d never realized that a kiss could be so utterly _reassuring_ … and she’d never known until she had it that the gesture was all _she’d_ ever needed from _him_.

“So,” she asked lightly once they’d broken apart, still lingering close enough to breathe one another’s air. “Is this the part where you have to go back to Howard’s mansion and say the dreaded words ‘you were right?’”

He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder with a moan and a muttered curse at the idea. She laughed… and then kissed his temple. “Everything will be fine, I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”


End file.
